It's Not Lying If Nobody Asks
by DevilishSophistication
Summary: Zada has always hidden her illness from her friends because she doesnt want them to treat or view her any differently. But it isn't lying if nobody asks her, right? This is the diary of a girl who was watching herself die.
1. Introduction To Zada

**Part I**

Zada had always thought that her name was ironic. Its literal meaning was "the lucky one". Zada was not lucky. Sure, she was pretty enough, she had great friends and a good family, but she was sick. She was very sick, and she had been that way for a long time. Very few people knew that she was sick. Every so often she would spend a weekend in the hospital, and then tell her friends the next week that she'd been out of town visiting family. Zada didn't want her friends to know she was sick. Her relatives didn't even know. Her illness was kept a secret because after she'd been diagnosed, Zada quickly realized that people treat you very different when they know that you're sick. Her family now tried to shelter her, and it seemed to Zada that they handled her like a glass ornament likely to shatter at any moment. At home, Zada couldn't be herself. She had to be careful, and everyone around her was careful. But when she was with her friends, it was a whole different story.

When Zada was with her friends, she could be wild, dangerous and herself! There was nobody telling her to slow down, take it easy or rest for a while. Nobody knew that she was ill, and she loved it. It wasn't possible to tell that Zada was ill unless she forgot to take her medications or they just stopped working. The meds almost always worked, and Zada was extremely careful to take her pill every day at the right time. Everything was fine, and Zada was able to live her life like this until one Sunday she got sicker, and had to stay overnight in the hospital. One Tuesday she came to school to find that people had started guessing she was gone for being sick, and someone had found out she'd been in the hospital. So Zada admitted that she was sick, but only to a select few people. She also downsized her illness to make it sound like a tiny little stomach thing that she just had to take one little pill for. She wasn't lying; she just wasn't telling them the whole truth. If they knew everything her whole life would be changed. So her friends knew she was sick now, but they didn't know the true extent of her disease. This was fine for a while, until Zada slowly began to get sicker. The doctors upped her dosages, and sent her home. Now she still hangs out with her friends, she doesn't lie to them though. Zada had told them part of it when they did ask, but she decided if they asked, she wouldn't lie. If one of her friends came up to her and asked, "Zada, do you have a disease that will impair you for the rest of your life and considerably shorten it by 15-25 years? Does this disease also make it so you've got to get extremely in depth monthly check-ups and painful shots at every one? Do you have to be on medication every day of your life because of said illness?"

If somebody asked her that, then Zada would answer them with the whole entire truth. But so far nobody had, so she hadn't. Hopefully, nobody would.

**Part II**

Zada had noticed a change. The pills had stopped working, her symptoms were coming back and she felt like she had three years ago when she'd first been diagnosed. She felt like she was dying. They took her back to the hospital, and it was there that they told her the news.

They didn't know what was wrong with her. Apparently, they never had and they'd just put her on the best medications they could find. Those medications were wrong. The pill's Zada took every night, and the shots Zada received every month had slowly been breaking down her immune system, making _her_ worse and the mystery disease even _stronger_. They gave her new medications, and injected different things into her body. She noticed that these shots hurt more than the old ones had. She had more pills. She noticed the new pills were bigger, and more varied colors than the old ones had been. They didn't make her feel any better, but Zada pretended that they did.

She didn't know how much longer she would have her life, but while she was still breathing she was determined to fully live and appreciate every moment she had. So it came to the point that she did have to lie. If people knew she was sick they would worry, hold her back, and treat her like she was fragile. Zada wouldn't be able to stand that. So when her friends began to wonder why she'd gotten so pale, why she'd lost weight, why she'd started eating noticeably less, she had to lie. She didn't say that her blood wasn't circulating as fast as it was meant to, she didn't say that her body couldn't absorb the nutrients it needed from food, and she didn't say that she could barely hold down the small amounts that she did eat. Above all, Zada especially didn't tell them that she might not be around next year. She made sure that she never even hinted at the fact that she was slowly wasting away.

Zada was the girl who was beautiful.

She was the girl who was smart.

She was the girl with good friends.

She was the girl who was skinny.

She was the girl who was pale.

She was the girl who bent the truth like a rule, and justified it.

She was the girl who'd lied to save herself and protect those she loved.

She was the girl who didn't know what was happening to her.

She was the girl who just wanted to be happy for once.

**She was the girl who was going to die.**


	2. This Must Be What It Feels Like

_Dear Dani,(You may be a diary but I've decided to call you Dani, seeing as she was the only person I have ever been able to fully confide in without being ashamed or having to hide anything.)_

_This must be what it feels like to waste away, with no idea of whether you'll die in a few months, a few years or a few decades. _

_We went to see Dr. Cable again today. He had nothing new to say, it was the same stuff I hear every month._

"We're not quite sure what is wrong with your daughter yet," _He said in his usual boring drawl as he addressed Mother. I've never understood why he talks to her and not me. I am the one who is ill, and after all I'm 17 years old. I think I could handle having him address me instead of my mother._ "For now, we'll keep her on the current medications and hope for the best." _After he said this, he stepped into the hall with Mother and I listened to him explain- as he'd forgotten to close the door- how my condition was deteriorating and there was still no telling whether I would make it through the year, or if I would last for another twenty. _

_I hate the uncertainty of all of this. If I must die, let me know when it will be! I know that this is not true, but I keep feeling as if half of my doctors expect me to pass on in the night, and other half expect me to miraculously recover and live a normal life. I doubt that either of those is very likely._

_Anyway, I eventually stopped listening to Dr. Cable tell my mother just how sick I am. When they came back in, Dr. Cable sat down and wrote me another prescription… for anxiety medications. Only Mother knew I was having anxiety problems, and I'd spoken with her about how much I didn't want to be on more medications. It wasn't that I didn't want to be rid of the anxiety, because that was just horrible. The anxiety attacks made me feel as if a huge iron claw was crushing my lungs and squeezing every last breath out of me. I just didn't want to admit that I needed any more medication. Mother said I shouldn't be so proud and that it's not my fault that I'm not healthy. I know this, but I __**am**__ proud. Every time I get some new medication, it makes me feel weak. I know I can't but I really wish I could just handle this on my own. My friends and family have always thought of me as the strong one, and now I rely on pills and shots just to keep up and walking around. What would they think of me now?_

_For Now, Zada_


	3. Maybe It Will Work

**ZADA'S POV-REAL LIFE**

It had taken me hours to convince my mother to let me go out tonight, and now that I was at Marlene's party I wasn't so sure I even wanted to be there.

"Zada?" I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to face it.

"Adam," I smiled, relived and delighted to see him. Adam was Marlene's brother, he was my most recent crush. I felt the butterflies rising in my stomach as he stepped closer so we could talk.

"Wanna go outside? It's pretty crazy in here." He said, leaning down so I could hear him better over the blasting bass.

"Sure," He took my hand and led me out the back door. "Oh, wow."

"You like it out here?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's kind of awesome." I said, stepping off of the dark wooden porch and onto a stone path leading through a massive garden in full bloom despite the chill of October. I stopped to marvel at a particularly big and bright orange flower.

"Those are my favorite." Adam reached out to touch one of the same flowers on the bush.

"They're beautiful." I told him.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"Not if you're going to be a major cliché and give me your jacket." I laughed. Adam chuckled and took one more step towards me.

"I've never been one for clichés, I had another idea." He breathed as his hands slid around my waist and his lips met mine.

I don't know how long we were making out in that garden for, and I suppose although the garden aspect of it was romantic it was really just making out at a party. At the end, I actually felt a little skanky. I'd never hooked up at a party before, never even kissed a guy I wasn't dating at one. Actually, I'd never even kissed a guy I _**was**_ dating at one. I paused to take a long breath and lean back on the ancient green bench we'd ended up on.

"Hey," Adam whispered, leaning over me and grinning, "There's a spare room upstairs." I just blinked, staring at him for a second. In that moment I realized that he didn't actually like me. I'd thought this might lead to something more, but that was stupid. I could never again have a real relationship with a boy.

"All my life I've been good," I said aloud, more talking to myself than I was to Adam. He took on a confused face, waiting for me to continue. "But now, I'm thinking what the hell! I just want to mess around." I grinned and he knew I was in.

"Then milady, shall I carry you?" He offered jovially and wrapped his strong arms around my thin body.

"Don't you dare!" I squealed as he lifted me and began running towards the house. "Adam!" I laughed, slapping his chest.

"Don't worry, my dear. We'll be alone soon!" He announced, and I blushed at his public blatancy.

An hour later, I was lying on his chest with his arms wrapped around me, my clothes halfway across the room, and I was horribly confused. I didn't know if I was happy with what I'd done, or if I hated myself.

"I'm an idiot." Adam said.

"What?" I sat up, clutching a sheet to my body.

"I fucked this up so bad." Adam sat up too, shaking his head and hiding behind his hands.

"Adam, what's wrong." I insisted, using my hand that wasn't keeping me covered to pull his hands away from his face.

"We shouldn't have done this, Zada."

"Why not?"

"Because I like you!" He exclaimed, facing me. "I like you, and I just fucked everything up. You probably thought I was just using you." His face ended up back in his hands.

"I did think that." I admitted.

"Fuck."

"But I like you too." I mentally scolded myself for saying that. I couldn't start a relationship!

"Oh." He sat up again, looking surprised. "You do?"

"No, I lied." His face fell and I realized he wasn't grasping my sarcasm. "It was sarcasm, Adam. I do like you."

"Good." He grinned again.

I suddenly gasped and hunched over in a spasm of pain. I felt like someone was twisting knives round in my gut and I could feel the sobs starting to come as I lay there, doubled over in pain.

"Zada?" He asked, concerned. I could feel him lean over me, trying to see my face. I couldn't hold back any longer and strangled sobs began tearing their way out of my throat to accompany the agonized tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Oh, oh, my god! Zada, what should I do? Should I call someone?" He was panicking now. I wanted to tell him no, he didn't need to call anyone. He didn't need to do anything but wait. I knew that if he just waited a minute, I would be fine. Due to my lack of an answer, and his slow panicked thinking, by the time he'd finally decided what to do my pain was fading, and though I hadn't moved I was just laying there, feeling the tears drying on my cheeks and listening to my own ragged breaths. I was suddenly ashamed of my illness. I knew how my pained wails sounded, having heard them so many times. I knew how I became paralyzed during my agonizing spasms, unable to move or speak for the pain.

When it had finally gone away enough for me to function again, my first action was to cover myself with the blanket again. He was out of the bed, pulling on his jeans and getting ready to go out the door and get someone.

"Don't," I said, my voice still weak. He turned around, his eyes full of worry and fear.

"You're better?" He asked. I nodded. "What happened?"

"I'm sick."

"Wait…" His eyes went wide. "It's not um, '_**contagious**_', is it?"

"No!" I assured him hurriedly.

"Good." He sighed, relaxing. He came back and crawled onto the bed and over to me, still concerned. "You're not okay, are you?"

"You can't tell anybody." I told him.

"I won't. But you have to tell me."

"I've been sick for a really long time. And I'm always going to be sick."

"But, you still go to school every day, and you were at the party. It can't be that bad, can it?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"_I don't know!_" I snapped. I sighed, regretting yelling at him. "They don't know what exactly is wrong with me."

"Oh…" He paused, his face twisting up in thought. "But, would we ever be able to have a real relationship then?"

"I think so. It would just be a little harder for us than anyone else." No, no, no! What was I doing? This was so stupid! Why was I being such an idiot!

"Then we should try." He insisted, grinning.

"Okay." I grinned back, and then jokingly slapped his bare chest. "You're an idiot." He laughed and lay back down next to me, wrapping his arms around me.

"I am. But maybe you'll have the patience to put up with me." He said as I settled into his arms. I sighed, happily this time. This really was an unusual way to start dating someone, but for some reason it felt right. I felt like this would work for us. For the first time in a long time, I felt like things were going to go my way.

"Maybe."


End file.
